


Manhattan

by kidcomrade



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel (Comics), No More Heroes
Genre: Gen, crossover AU, in which travis learns how REAL injuries work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcomrade/pseuds/kidcomrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just like making a movie out of a book-- moving from one genre to the next is always a rough deal. Wounds don't usually need to get stitched up in video games, for one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manhattan

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I'll get to uploading more context later, but this drabble is based on a theoretical end game for the Dreamwidth RP, Haven: Travis and Wade, among others, were brought to a post-apocalyptic wasteland filled with monsters and an evil puppetmaster organization. Here, Travis followed Wade home to Earth-616.

The needle pierces neatly through the skin. Travis doesn’t shudder this time-- he knows better than to move while getting stitched up-- but he grimaces and grips the arm of the chair he’s been bleeding all over for the last ten minutes.

“ _Shit,_ that hurts,” he hisses through his teeth. 

Wade looks up only briefly, an eyebrow raised, before returning to his work. The wound is on his side, and it’s deep enough, but not jagged-- Travis’ persistent luck’s made it so clean a blind man could fix it up on instinct. It won’t take too much time to sew back together. “Didn’t know you’d be so delicate, Trav,” he teases lightly. “This your first time? I’m honored.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Travis rolls his eyes and winces again as Wade continues sewing the wound shut. “Can you blame me? S’not like I’ve never gotten hurt before, but back home, getting cut up didn’t _last_ like this.”

“So you’re saying I should find somebody to cast a Curaga on you.”

“Ye--” he catches himself, shooting a disapproving glance down at Wade, “--no. We had a healing item.”

“What, like a potion or something? I thought you said you were a _non-traditional_ JRPG, or--”

“Let me finish! It was pizza.”

Wade nearly drops the needle. “...Pizza?”

“Pizza.” 

A beat. 

“...You know, if you wanted pizza that bad, you coulda just asked.” Wade smirks. “We _are_ in New York. It’s the best place to get it, and I know some places you’d really dig.”

“I’m seri-- _ghh_ \-- serious!”

Travis doesn’t see it coming: with a firm hand, Wade pushes him back into his chair, a stern expression on his face. “ _Stop trying to get up._ You wanna waste all the effort I just put into those stitches just now? You’re lucky you didn’t _break_ anything tonight, you know. What the hell were you thinking, charging at the targets like that? If your stance was any _more_ open you coulda hung a neon sign around your neck! Are you really gonna go around with a death wish so soon after that mandatory vacation we just got out of?”

“I _know_ , all right?” Travis’ eyes are hard, mouth set into a deep frown. “I’m trying. It’s not _like_ \--”

“Back home,” Wade finishes. “I know.”

Travis fumes, mutely, but it only takes the last few stitches and Wade tying up the string for whatever righteous anger that he’s got to fizzle to nothing. Or maybe it’s a little bit of residual petulance. He’s quieter these days; more calm. He hasn’t quite got the right to be angry at many things anymore, even if his old winning streak’s only persisted in keeping him from dying. 

After all, Wade’s right. It’s different now. Here, he bleeds.

“Done.” With an air of finality, Wade covers the stitched-up gash with a pad of gauze. “Feel weird anywhere?”

Travis shakes his head. “No. It’s fine. And… uh.” He fidgets. “Sorry I fucked up.”

“Don’t apologize. You did your best, and we still got paid. Besides, you still killed the asshole who tried to gut you anyways. D’you see the way his arm flung off? Hit that bald dude right in the face! Freakin’ classic!”

“Heh, I know, right?”

“And you’re going to get better at this soon. I can tell.”

“...Really?” Travis blinks in surprise, ducking his head a little. 

“Yeah. Definitely. ‘Cause if you _don’t_ , I’m eating your share of the pizza.”

“Ha, ha-- h-hey, ow--”

“Trav, the stitches!”

It stings, but he grins anyway. “Oh, fuck off, you’re the one who made me laugh!”


End file.
